


Remorse

by MrsHamill



Series: Penitence [1]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-03-04
Updated: 2001-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:24:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of TSbyBS, Jim's got a lot of explaining to do.  No sex; the rating is for language and situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remorse

**Author's Note:**

> This is rather an experiment for me. Jim leaned on my shoulder and demanded I write this; when he was finished, I realized he had more he was gonna have to say, so there will probably be a few more of these. Thanks, Poledra, for the fast beta, and Fox (as usual) for telling me the ending sucked.

* * *

In the dream, it's always the same. 

Well, there are sometimes minor differences, I guess. A word here or there; sometimes the light is dimmer, darker... 

Yeah, yeah. Get on with it. It's just... Whatever. I thought talking about this was supposed to make it *easier.* 

So in the dream, I know I'm looking for Sandburg. I can _hear_ him, he's talking -- hell, when does that motor mouth ever shut up? But I know he's in trouble -- again -- and I have to get to him. I can hear his responses to whoever it is that's talking to him, asking him questions. And I can hear his heart. It's fast and furious. 

But I don't know where he *is.* I'm trying like hell to get to him, but it's like a maze; I struggle down hallways, open doors, nothing is ever quite right. Like a typical dream, I suppose. I feel... lost. Scared. I can't tell... I can't tell who I'm more scared for... him or me. My heart starts beating faster too, and I start sweating. 

Trying to pinpoint his location, I listen closely for clues. At first, I don't hear the voice of whoever it is that's got him trapped, but later, I do. Sometimes I hear it from the beginning -- sometimes not at all. But I know what that guy is saying. And sometimes... damn. Sometimes it sounds like Colonel Oliver talking. Sometimes it sounds like Lash. Sometimes it even sounds like Sandburg. 

Sometimes... 

Sometimes, it sounds like me. 

Blair's -- *Sandburg's* voice is high, a little higher than normal. I've heard that tone before, the one where he's totally stressed out. He talks faster, takes smaller breaths. He even stutters a bit. Usually, his hands are flying all over the place, making his points, but somehow I know... his hands are tied. I hear him responding to questions... normal stuff. 

He says, Blair Sandburg. He says, I'm a student at Rainier University. He says, I teach there too, I'm ABD. He says, no. It was all a lie. 

That's when it hits me, he's talking about me. About that damned dissertation. God! What that stupid paper has done to me... to us. To us. To everybody. Every-fucking-body. Especially to Blair. 'Cause it sure wasn't me. 

Was it? 

Anyway. 

The conversation creeps me out, for some reason. The more I hear, the harder I struggle to get to him, and the harder it gets to get there. I hear questions being asked, questions about my senses, about me. Sandburg keeps saying no, it was a lie, I lied on my diss, man, it was all a fabrication. An obfuscation. I never meant for it to get out, it wasn't real, man. Really. 

But the other guy, well, he just keeps at it. He keeps asking, keeps harping on it, keeps goddamned pick-pick-picking at Sandburg, asking him over and over, how far can he see, how far can he hear, can he tell this can he tell that, and Blair keeps trying to interrupt but can't. I mean, I can hear the kid's heartbeat, and it's off the scale. But his voice still sounds almost in control. Almost. 

Then the guy -- well, this is -- this is where it starts... oh shit. The guy starts to threaten Blair. Starts getting mean, starts saying that it's in Sandburg's best interest to just own up. Tells him, tells him... tells him that unless he does, bad stuff is going to happen. 

Bl -- Sandburg gets real quiet for a while, and I stop my frantic movements to get to him. For some reason, I've got to hear him, got to hear what he's going to say. But instead of giving in -- no, not my little guppy \-- he just asks, like what. 

Like what!? For God's sake, the kid is insane. Like he's going to kill you, Darwin! And I realize I want him to tell. I WANT him to admit, yeah, I didn't lie. It was all real. And here's my research, now let me go. 

But of course, he doesn't. He listens to the guy while the asshole starts cataloguing what is going to be done to Blair. How he'll be tortured. Beaten. Assaulted. Kept alive while drugs are fed to him that make his brain feel like it's on fire. The guy says, we've got men here who really like to hurt other people. It's what they're good at. 

Damn straight, I'm thinking, I know that's for true. And I keep waiting for Blair to crack, for him to admit it all, and he keeps *not doing it.* His heart actually steadies a bit, calms down while he listens. Now, I know Sandburg, he doesn't take this shit easily, but he's acting like the guy is describing some kind of seminar. Not his death. 

After a while, after a laundry list of abuse, the guy tells Blair, I know you don't want this. I know you don't want to die, and you don't have to. But you need to meet me halfway here. Come on. You're young. You don't owe him anything. Right? 

And I'm struggling to get to him, trying to claw down walls, knock down doors, howling, begging him to give in, don't do it. Then I hear this teeny, tiny little word. I hear Blair say, no. 

I freeze. I really mean freeze... inside and out. I don't know what to think. I want Blair to do this. I don't want to get him hurt, not on my account, not for anything. He *doesn't* owe me anything. He *doesn't.* 

Then the guy says, with a smile in his voice, there. You see, now just tell us... and Blair interrupts. He says no again, and then continues, no, I won't do it. Can't do it. My dissertation was a lie. Jim Ellison is not a Sentinel. Sentinels don't exist. 

The guy starts in with this soft cussing, after a few minutes where I guess he was stunned silent. He and Blair start arguing, mildly, one saying, are you nuts and the other saying, it doesn't matter, I can't tell you what you want to hear; I know what you want to hear and I can't. And then... and then... 

I'm sorry. This is... God help me. This is so much harder... it hurts so fucking much... 

I _am_ taking my time. 

Huh. Okay. 

So the next thing I hear is a slap. And a grunt. And the guy starts talking again, so disappointed like, saying, you don't have to do this, why are you doing this, just let it go. He doesn't care. You know that. Let it go. And all the time, there're these _noises_ and Blair is yelping, and gasping, and Jesus God I've got to get there to make it _stop_... 

And I can't. I can't. I can't get to him, and the noises get louder. When the first bone is snapped, I hear it, and I hear Blair scream, it's the first time he screams, usually, and the guy just keeps _talking_... telling him to let it go. And Blair just doesn't. 

He's a strong guy, you know. Sandburg. He's so fucking strong... he gets embarrassed sometimes, that he can't keep up, with me, or with Joel or Simon, but that's just because he's a bit smaller than us. That's all. He's so strong. And so brave, so fucking brave, he's done things, things I never would have had the courage to do, things he shouldn't have had to do... 

Yeah. I know. The dream. 

So I'm... 

Shit. I'm sorry. No. Just give me a minute. 

Okay. So. I'm hearing all this. Grunts and screams, and bones breaking, and wet, disgusting sounds; they're hurting him. They're hurting him bad, and *he still won't say anything.* He's doing this for me, dammit, and I didn't ask him to! Why? Why is he... 

Sorry. 

I -- I keep trying to get to him. Looking all over for a door, a window, something that would take me to him. And I suddenly hear him gasp, and a shot, and I realize that he's been right next to me, right in the next fucking room all the time, and I just didn't realize it. Suddenly there's a door there, right there, and it's not even locked, so I just barge in. 

And nobody's there. Just... just Blair. He's on the floor, his hands still tied behind his back, and he's a mess. He's covered with blood and vomit and piss and feces, and there are bones sticking out, and his head is shaved, and he's naked, and there's blood, there's blood everywhere. Pools of it all around him. It stinks and it makes me want to throw up, but I don't. I go to him, and lift him gently. 

That's when I see the gunshot wound. In his chest, just over his heart. And I feel so numb, so horrible, and I lift him, and cradle him, and straighten him out as best I can, taking the pressure off his dislocated joints and compound fractures, and I'm moaning, and crying as I look at him. 

And his eyes open. He should be dead, but his eyes open. And he -- and he -- Christ! 

He smiles at me. 

Can I have some water? Thanks. 

Yeah. He smiles at me. Those beautiful blue eyes look up at me, and he smiles, this peaceful, beautiful smile. He says, Jim. Whispers it. Says, I knew you'd come. Says, I'm sorry, man. Didn't mean to check out on you like this. And I tell him to just shut up, shut up, don't be an idiot, you have nothing to apologize for. I did this to you. 

Oh God. I did, didn't I? 

And he lies there in my arms, bleeding, smiling, and then just... just... he's gone. 

That's when I see the gun, on the floor next to him. When the dream ends, I'm lifting it. 

I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention. What? 

Oh. I don't know. I've never... never had suicidal thoughts. But Blair, Sandburg, he -- he gave up his _life_ for me. He... he killed himself for me. Didn't he. 

I didn't ask him to. He just did it. Destroyed his whole fucking life for... 

for... 

for me. 

Nothing I ever do will come close to repaying that. And I didn't even ask him to. 

What? Tell him? About the *dream?* Are you nuts? I -- I can't do that. 

So what if I should. I can't. 

He destroyed his life for me. Least I can do is destroy my life for him. 

And no, I don't give a rat's ass how bad that sounds. Fuck it. I have to leave. 

Yeah, I guess... I guess I'll come back next week. Haven't got anything better to do. 

end


End file.
